Believer
by AllusionToAnIllusion
Summary: After a childhood that left him confused and skeptic, Richard Castle finally believes. One-shot.


**You know the fly that won't quit buzzing around your head, flying around and around until it's successfully driven you absolutely crazy? Or maybe the little kid who's decided to play the "Why Game" and won't stop asking you that same question over and over again no matter your response? Well, that's what this idea was. Something that wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it out in order to attain any peace ever again. I hope you like it, considering this literally would not leave my head all day I'm just grateful it's gone, free to run it's course. **

**Disclaimer: All characters are the property of ABC and Marlowe, I'm only having a little fun with them. **

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Every kid I knew always had something I didn't, and it was always the same thing, a father. Each child had both a mother and a father, so why didn't I? Some kids told me it was because my dad didn't love me, others said that my father left my mother and I all alone. I was four years old when I finally asked my mother why, why I didn't have a daddy. It had been a Father's Day and I'd just come home from the park with my mom, a little girl I'd met there asked me where my father was. I'd told her I didn't know. I wanted to know; from the time I'd realized that having a father was normal, that a dad was part of a family, I'd questioned why I didn't have one. Was I not considered good enough of a kid to get one, did I simply not deserve it?

We came home and plopped ourselves on the couch, my mother ordered us lunch before Claudia, my nanny, came to watch me while my mom was at work. It was then that I couldn't take it anymore; I was always a curious kid so why hold back now? I'd asked her where my father was; she seemed shocked at first but calmed down and quickly took me in her arms. I didn't understand at first, how could she not know? She didn't even know who he was, it took her a full hour to explain things, the only interruption when our doorbell rang and she came back minutes later bearing a cheeseburger for me and a salad for her, glass of wine in hand. By the time she had to leave I still couldn't really grasp the concept, but I was only four then, it would be years before I finally realized what she'd meant when she said that she didn't know his identity.

Then, when I was eleven, the only father figure I'd ever had left the house one night never to come home. His name was Robert, though mother called him Rob and I'd deemed him Robby. He'd come into our lives when I was nine, sweeping my mother off her feet. They'd married within six months, and he'd already been living with us for four of those. I'd finally had a father, someone to look up to, to teach me how to throw a baseball, and to show me how to become a man. I'd really liked Robby, maybe even loved him, and I was sure mom loved him. They acted just like all of the other mommies and daddies that my friends had, that's how I knew that I finally had a complete family. It wasn't just my mom and I; the vacant spot had been filled. He'd stayed for two years, but a month before that night I still remember vividly something went wrong. I wasn't sure what it was then, just that somehow it had all gone wrong.

My mother was gone, off performing into the early hours of dawn, when I walked downstairs to get a glass of juice. But I never made it to the kitchen; Robby and a woman were in the living room, kissing on the couch. I didn't know what was going on, but I did know that they weren't supposed to be kissing, a mother and father could only kiss each other, I was sure that was one of the rules. When mother came home in the morning I'd told her immediately, a look of pure confusion no doubt on my face. I can only remember sounds for the next month, the sound of yelling, dishes crashing to the floor and a symphony of doors slamming every night. A month later Robby came into my room and said goodbye to me, I'd asked him if he was going to the store because we needed more milk, he'd solemnly chuckled at that. He'd told me he was going away, and that he wasn't coming back. But just like so many times before, I didn't understand. He was the only father I'd ever had, how could he just leave me? There were so many things we hadn't done yet. He'd never shot hoops with me, we hadn't gone fishing for a weekend and I still had no clue how to be a man. But I didn't say any of this; I silently buried myself under my blanket and refused to talk to him, to say even the faintest goodbye. If I didn't acknowledge it then it couldn't be real, at least that was my philosophy at the time. I hid under my covers for what seemed like forever, though it only turned out to be an hour, just pretending that none of this happened. That Robby was just downstairs, that he was going to drive me to school tomorrow, but most importantly that he and my mother still loved each other.

I had a lot of other dads before I went off to college, some slimy, others nice, but most of them left within a five-month period. I'd begun to make bets with myself on how long they'd stay, and as more and more of them entered my house the better I got at the estimating. Soon I was predicting the exact day they'd leave, and two times I even got it right. The first was Dan, he was another actor; they'd met on set. He was a real douche; he wasn't staying for long. I'd predicted it would last a month and five days, and that exact amount of time later I came home to a Dan free house and my mother on the rebound. The other time it was with Carter, he was actually a pretty nice guy, even offered to help me with my homework. Not that I actually took him up on his offer, by then I knew not to get too attached. They always ended up leaving; it dulled the pain if you never really knew them. With him I'd said it would last six months, two weeks and three days. I'd been right, on that exact day he'd packed his suitcases and left for Atlanta, my mother refusing to follow him because she just wasn't that type of woman.

When I was eighteen, just leaving the nest my mother had created; I'd met her. Kyra was the only woman I'd ever actually felt a connection with, the only woman I'd ever felt something real for. We shared everything with each other, I told her all about my hopes and dreams for the future, even told her about my past. We spent the next year together, I dedicated one of my books to her, I was sure I was on the verge of something, if only I'd known what it was then. But then she'd told me she needed her space, leaving the country and instructing me to leave her alone for a little while. Needless to say, I'd been confused, extremely so. But after a long time, and a lot of pining, I'd moved on. That something I was on the verge of completely forgotten, a new, more impenetrable mask in place so that nobody could breach the walls that carefully guarded what my soul really held.

When I was in college I met Meredith, within a month of dating I told her I loved her. The thing is, I'd told a lot of women that. Truthfully, I didn't know what the word love actually meant. I didn't even think it existed, true love that is. I'd given up on real love years ago; it was only an urban legend. A myth made to romanticize the feelings a man and a woman are capable of having for each other. And so, I used the word love freely, I can't even remember all the names of girls that I said it to. But this time using that particular phrase had a different outcome than the others, a child, and not just any child; a beautiful red-haired baby girl that I helped to create. We named her Alexis; it was that day that I discovered that at least one form of love does exist between man and woman, the bond between father and daughter. Meredith left not long after Alexis was born, many other women whose names I still can't really remember made short-lived appearances in my life but none made a last impression. Then came Gina, I didn't love her either, still didn't believe in love actually, but I married her anyway. Though that maybe, just maybe, she could teach me a bit about love, maybe she could show me that it isn't really just a false hope. I was wrong, she was gone shortly after, leaving me alone yet again with the only girl I ever thought I could love, my little baby girl.

I guess it just took the right woman to convince me that love really does exist, and that I can actually feel it in my heart. All I needed was a tough, sassy, beautiful and sexy auburn-haired woman to make me see the light, to help me find love. The thing is, when I met her I never expected to develop any real feelings for her. Two years ago she waltzed into my life, unannounced and unchanged by my charms, only to end up locking part of my soul away in a safe only she knew the combination to. Kate Beckett, NYPD detective, even her name and title fit her just perfectly. For the first few weeks of knowing her she was just like any other woman, sexy as hell and all I wanted out of the relationship was some great sex, but as time went on I actually developed feelings for her, feelings much more real than anything I'd ever felt, even Kyra didn't compare to her.

But, seeing as I'd never felt this way before, and that she was well, her, I had no clue how to go about telling her. First, I tried jokes, flirting shamelessly and making sexual advances like it was nobody's business. But she didn't respond to that, unlike most women I'd encountered in the past, sure she flirted right back, teasing me as much as I did her, but she wasn't charmed. As time passed I learned new things, discovered more about her past and what made Detective Kate Beckett who she was. As I got to know her, I realized why none of my methods were working. She wasn't like any woman I'd ever encountered before, she was different; she was a special brand of woman. And so I learned quickly, I just started being myself around her. The advances didn't disappear nor did the teasing, which had quickly become our signature, but I was also more genuine, more me. My books, the series based solely on her, have become an epic love letter, meant for her and her only. I can't deny it any longer, it's much too obvious for anybody to believe the lie I usually feed them, I am completely and utterly in love with Kate, my muse, my friend, my partner. Needless to say, I now believe.

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**Care to review, dear reader? I'd really love it, oh so much. **


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